


Arlï Rhaenis

by Aupple (GiveUpResistance)



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-06
Updated: 2016-04-06
Packaged: 2018-05-31 13:39:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6472135
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/GiveUpResistance/pseuds/Aupple
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sansa finds herself in Meereen, in a new court, with a new Queen.<br/>She can see why so many follow Daenerys.<br/>But there are things that she misses.</p>
<p>Based mostly on TV canon until a slight divergence mid-season four, but set in Season 5.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Arlï Rhaenis

**Author's Note:**

> I started this ages ago and figured I'd better finish and post it before the new season comes out.  
> The title is my attempt at verb conjugation in High Valyrian and hopefully means (they) Meet Again. Hopefully.  
> I just want Sansa to be happy okay

“There are two septons of Westeros here to speak to you of the Seven,” Missandei announces, and Daenerys raises her eyebrows at Ser Barristan.

“This is good, Your Grace,” he tells her, as if she hadn’t worked that out. “The Sept do have some sway over the people, and it seems that at least some recognise your claim.”

“Show them in.”

They are both tall and thin, wrapped and hooded in grey cloaks. They walk slowly toward the dais, one of them stopping just a step behind the other before they both bow.

“Have you come to convert my court to the one true faith?” she asks, and the one in front pulls back his hood and smiles.

“I am only here to speak to those who wish to know,” he says.

“Only you?”

At her question, the other steps forward and kneels on the stone floor. “I have come to plead for sanctuary, Your Grace,” a feminine voice announces, and they draw back their hood to reveal red hair and a woman’s face.

“And you are-”

“She is Sansa Stark,” Ser Barristan says, and Daenerys sucks in a breath.

 

Daenerys Targaryen is beautiful, Sansa can see, white blonde hair and silk clad curves and _strength_ , but her violet eyes are staring at her coldly.

“Are you?” she says, asking for her corroboration of Ser Barristan’s - the old Kingsguard, now Queensguard? - words, and she nods, bowing her head.

"Why shouldn't I have you killed?" The dragon queen asks her, looking down haughtily. "Your family helped in the slaughter of mine."

"My father should not have rebelled," Sansa says, bowing her head. "But the Baratheons and Lannisters have killed all of my kin, too. All I wish for now is to be away from them, and helping to bring them down."

Daenerys looks scornful. "And how could you help? You may only be two years younger than I, but you have no supporters, no dragons that could further your cause."

"But I am the heir to the North, the last of the Starks, who have held it for centuries, even after bending the knee to your ancestors. And my people do not hold southerners in much regard, no matter their house."

"And you think that they would rally to your side, if you asked?"

"Yes," Sansa replies, without a doubt in her heart, because belief and hope are all she has left now.

"I'll think upon it," the beauty says, and motions for her away to be taken away.

 

"Her father was an honourable man," Ser Barristan says. "And loyal to a fault."

"He was the Usurper Robert Baratheon's best friend," Daenerys spits out. "He swore his allegiance to my family, to my father, and fought against him."

"He and Robert were practically brothers, and your father burnt Ned Stark's blood brother and father alive. Besides, as she said, she has no reason to love the Lannisters or Baratheons, if any of what I have heard is true."

"And how she spoke of the North?"

"From what I know of Northmen, aye, it's true. They look after their own, and the Starks ruled them fairly before the Andals even thought of conquering Westeros. And to have survived the Lannisters for so long shows remarkable strength."

For a few moments, Daenerys is silent. “She may stay. But I don’t trust her, and if she gives you any reason to be suspicious-”

“I understand.”

 

Sansa is given clothes and introductions to various people and free passage through an area of the great pyramid. She is very much aware that she is once again a prisoner, but unlike in Kings Landing, the people eye her with open suspicion rather than speak behind her back.

It is almost refreshing.

The way that the Unsullied look at her with distaste is nice, too, without desire clouding their eyes, and Missandei explains to her how they came to Daenerys, how she freed them and the adoration the ex-slaves hold for her, Sansa begins to understand.

And even if Daenerys never trusts her, even if she is executed after all, then Sansa is glad that she has had the chance to see this, see the way that things could one day be.

Of course her rule is not perfect, and there is trouble brewing in Meereen, the 'Harpys' killing the Unsullied, and vice versa. But Daenerys at least listens to counsel, unlike any other ruler that Sansa has ever met, weighs their words by what she knows and her experience and passes judgement unique to her.

Ser Barristan is kind to her, at least when she met him by chance in a corridor and he pressed her hands and told her how sorry he was to hear about her father, that he was a good man, and for the first time in a long time those words ring with truth and Sansa can smile back, even though he has looked on her with pity ever since he saw her in the throne room.

Missandei, a pretty girl of a similar age to the Queen, is the first of any other to treat her with courtesy. She is clever and lovely and she speaks wise words in any tongue she wishes. She asks Sansa of Westeros, of her life, and in return tells her of her own, and of the greatness of Daenerys.

Sansa finds herself envious of their friendship, so strong despite their circumstances of birth, or perhaps because of it.

She hasn't set much by birth and class of late, not for a long time, she supposes, not since her 'true love' had her father decapitated. Only recently she has truly admitted it, after the kind way the brothers of the Quiet Isle treated her, and the respect she received from the people while dressed as a Septon, even in a foreign place that held no preference for the Seven.

The men of Meereen who sit on the Queen's council pay no attention to her, and Daario Naharis has eyes only for Daenerys, all in all there are very few people who visit the great pyramid that notice her at all.

But she is contented, and feels oh so much freer in her small room than she has in years.

She had thought she may be free in the Eyrie, with her aunt, but Lysa had scared her almost as much as Littlefinger’s gaze did, and she had been so grateful to the gods when Lysa had wanted her virginity confirmed. Littlefinger had not been able to protest, not when he was part of that suspicion and so she had been sent to the the Septry of the Quiet Isle.

That the brothers had believed her when she said that she was not safe, that she needed to disappear, was a wonder, and their help had saved her life.

She was to leave as a travelling Septon, and they were to tell her aunt that she had given herself to the waves.

 

“You were to marry Joffrey, correct?” Daenerys asks, and Sansa nods.

“But after Stannis was defeated at the Blackwater he became betrothed to Margaery Tyrell instead. I thought I would be free of them, but instead I married Tyrion Lannister.”

“The dwarf? No wonder you hate them.”

“Oh, no, Tyrion was the best of all of them,” Sansa says hurriedly. “Joffrey was cruel, to everyone, and had me beaten just because my brother was winning battles, for his pleasure. And the other Lannisters were awful."

"So it wasn't much to be the best of them."

"Tyrion only married me because he was commanded to. And he never touched me, even though any claim the Lannisters could have on the North would have to be through a child."

Daenerys raises her eyebrows. "Was he not interested in women?"

"No, I saw him with my maid, once. He was simply kind."

"How strange," the queen says, and speaks no more on the subject.

 

Ser Barristan’s body is brought before Daenerys. The queen does not cry but her grief is clear, and every inch of her body radiates anger and sorrow.

Sansa weeps as she cleans the old knight’s corpse as best she can, whispering prayers to the Seven and the Old Gods alike, and finally stands vigil for the last connection she has to her old life.

Quite understandably, Daenerys’ reaction is to round up the heads of houses and threaten them with death by dragon.

And then it is announced that the Queen shall marry Hizdahr, one of the Meereenese nobles, and that the fighting pits shall be reopened, and Sansa hates the sound of that, more blood being spilled for the useless glory of men, but she hardly has to attend the fights as Daenerys must.

Sansa keeps Missandei company in watching of Grey Worm’s recovery, and watches as the Queen gains a consort.

And Daenerys does not send her away when advisors speak.

 

Sansa sees Daario Naharis entering and leaving the queen’s rooms at all hours of the day and night and dreams of a larger man, who promised to keep her safe and take her home.

 

A messenger informs Sansa that she is to be confined to her room until the queen commands otherwise, and refuses to say any more other than that Daenerys returned from a pit fighter trainer with two prisoners.

 

“What about your wife? Sansa Stark?”

“Well, I doubt that she had anything to do with Joffrey’s death,” Tyrion says, looking bemused. “She hated him, but she didn’t have the resources to do so, and even less opportunity to do so.”

“Didn’t she disappear immediately after?” Dany asks casually.

“Well, I was a terrible husband, so I wouldn’t blame her for leaving me to die. But I think it more likely that someone stole her away. She is the key to the North, after all.”

“Interesting,” she muses.

 

Sansa is somehow not at all surprised to see her husband. She should have known that he would manage to get out of a murder charge - and she is glad to hear of Tywin Lannister’s death, even if it is little consolation for her mother and brother’s deaths.

Plus, Daenerys grants her request for an annulment.

 

All of the court are to attend the great games to be held in Daenerys’ honour, and Sansa can see the queen getting tenser every hour.

She, Tyrion and Missandei accompany her to the arena, with a group of Unsullied and Daario as their protection. Dany is as pale as her robes, and Missandei murmurs quietly to her in Valyrian while Sansa and Tyrion try not to notice each other.

In the covered platform section of the stands reserved for Her Majesty they are seated, the queen and her missing consort on slightly raised chairs with Missandei and Tyrion on either side, Sansa slightly behind Tyrion and Daario standing guard behind Daenerys.

Sansa is rather glad to be set slightly back from the rest. To be ignored and unimportant is a relief.

 

The first fight is horrible, Daenerys looking sickened as they tell her that they fight for her glory, and as Hizdahr tells her that she is to command one of the to die with a single clap.

The small man is beheaded and the fight is over, but Daenerys and her consort spar with words as the next fighters enter the arena, and Tyrion begins to join as they speak of greatness and what is necessary and death.

Sansa can’t believe that any of this is truly necessary, and looks away.

But her eyes are caught as the fighters begin to speak, by a man whose hair and beard are wild and unkempt yet sparse on one side, whose large form is too familiar, and whose voice as he speaks the required words is the same from the blazing night-

Her breath catches and she breathes his name, but no one hears, drowned out by the crowd and the bickering, but then they suddenly stop as the last man, another Westerosi, talks.

By the way that they look towards the queen she gathers that it must be Jorah Mormont, who betrayed her but came back, now for a second time, but she can’t keep her gaze from sliding back along the line of men, all but one of whom will die.

_He_ will die.

Her hands turn to fists at the thought, nails digging into her palms, because he can’t, not when she has found him again, but even if he wins, Tyrion will surely announce his identity to Daenerys and then he will pay for his brother’s crimes.

In her mind she wills him to look away from the sand, to look up and see her there, but his head remains hanging down and she holds back a sob.

She cannot lose Sandor again.

 

Of course Jorah has come to fight for his queen one last time, Tyrion thinks. If he does not die, and she does not kill him, he will likely fight until that happens, and every time Daenerys will have to make the choice to possibly kill her oldest friend.

He looks back down at the other fighters, to gauge the Knight’s chances of survival - and it doesn’t exactly look good, especially considering the size of one of them- And it is a size he recognises, and he manages a glimpse of the scars as the man glances at his opponents, and he is stunned, because how in the names of the Seven did Sandor Clegane end up in Meereen, of all places?

His second thought is _Sansa_ , for the Hound had been Joffrey’s dog once, and hurt her, and when he glances back her eyes are wide and blood is seeping from her firsts.

“He can’t hurt you,” he whispers to her, leaning back, and she turns to him with glistening eyes.

“He’d never hurt me,” she tells him, voice breaking slightly, and oh, he thinks. _Oh._

(And wonders at it, that Sansa, who has had so much pain in her life, can still bring herself to care, and for one who is so damaged as the hound-)

“I won’t tell her,” he says, and Sansa just nods and bites her lip.

 

Sandor has a limp now, by the look of his unstable gait, but he manages to kill the first man who comes for him with some ease, using his greater height and strength. The second is more trouble, it seems, and she watches with her heart in her throat, unable to look away and determined to look upon him for as long as she can.

There's only two other men left now, one of them Mormont, and he is struggling more than Sandor-

But then Sandor's opponent is gutted with a quick thrust, and as he falls Sandor turns to the last two, and Sansa thinks he looks tired, walking slower than before as he strides across the sand.

Mormont is on the ground, about to die, but the other man doesn't notice Sandor approaching, and dies with a sword through the back.

She can't breathe when Sandor steps back, allows Mormont to rise, because even as tired as they must be, Mormont is a skilled fighter, without too much injury.

But Mormont looks straight at the Queen's stand, and picks up a spear, throwing it straight towards them.

 

Sandor almost laughs when Mormont picks up the spear, as if he couldn't deflect it with ease, but then he is simply surprised when it is thrown toward the stand. He'd thought Mormont was with the Queen before, and to kill her was pointless-

Then he turns and looks over there, where the spear is sticking out of a man in a ridiculous mask, obviously preparing to harm the Dragon Queen, and his eyes are caught by a flash of red hair-

Sansa.

Sansa Stark is here in Meereen.

And apparently in danger.

He takes off running after Mormont, his eyes fixed on _her_ , furious that he can't move any faster while she backs away from the masked men. As he nears the platform he sees her fumble at her skirts and draws out what looks like a knife, holding it out to ward away her attacker.

Mormont is already up there, stabbing one who threatened the queen, and Sansa slashes at a man's arm as Sandor reaches her and cuts of his head.

"Sandor," she breathes, and her hand flits up to touch his face before another mask catches his eye and he parries their blow and slays them.

"Get out, Little Bird," he says, and grabs her around the waist when she doesn't immediately comply, dropping her off the side of the platform as he sees Mormont doing. By the time he gets down himself she is helping the dark skinned girl down and then the dwarf, and makes to head over to the queen with them. He grabs her by the wrist, and grunts "They're targeting her," nodding in the direction of the queen, trying to get across the fact that she is _not going back into danger_.

She wrenches free of him, says "And I have to stop them," with her jaw tightening just like her little sister's did, and follows them across the sand.

Sandor groans, but he can't help but follow. She's the world, now that he has found her again.

 

She still has the knife in her hand, Sansa realises as she reaches the others, the one she has kept strapped to her leg all the way from the Eyrie, after Shae's advice from the Blackwater had come to mind. The unsullied do not threaten her, but they close ranks as Sandor approaches, slowed by his leg, until she leaves their protective circle and takes him by the hand.

Harpies are swarming in from all around, and Missandei hisses her name from where she and Daenerys are standing hand in hand, but Sansa holds up the knife to show that she's armed. "I can try to protect you," she tells them, and turns to face their enemies.

The killing starts, and the Unsullied appear to handle them and first, but the masks begin to bleed through. Sandor mows them down before they can reach her, and she knows that she can't truly do much, especially not with her knife, but then a shining blade comes skidding along the sand towards her, and Sandor turns and grins as he dispatches its owner, a feral smile full of teeth, and she can pick it up with a hope that maybe they might get through this.

Sansa uses the sword to slice across a man's chest, and he falls back only to come surging forward again, when he stops.

She hears the screech then, an awful sound, and she knocks him out as he turns to look at the sky for the source of a second sound.

And then a dragon appears over the top of the arena stands, and she curses.

 

Fire. Fire and black wings, and more fire, and why did Sansa have to be near a _dragon_ queen and why did he have to stay for her - because it's _Sansa_ \- and then she is there, in front of him, dragging his head down to look at her and gripping his head tight, hilt of the scimitar pressing into his skull.

"Look at me, Sandor," she says, and stares up at him with those great blue eyes of hers, and how can he look away?

But then there's heat and screaming and his grip tightens on his sword and he goes to look away but Sansa tugs his head closer to hers and repeats herself and he can feel his chest getting tight and then her eyes are huge and right in front of him and his lips are against hers. The little bird is _kissing_ him.

It's only a few moments before she jerks away, and there's a clash of metal, forcing him to switch his focus to the battle around them. There's a body at Sansa's feet and another heading for them, and he has to shrug off Sansa's remaining hand to take care of him.

When he flinches at the fire again, her hand finds his.

 

Sansa sees Daenerys approach the dragon, almost calls out to her in fear, but then the beast stops, responds to her, but men are throwing spears at it, and she imagines that she can hear pain in its awful scream. Then she must defend herself again, and the next time she spots Dany it is nothing but the flash of silver hair and white robes as Sandor pushes her to the ground and the dragon thunders past, the queen on its back.

The harpies disperse, target now flying around above their heads, and away, and as the others watch the flight Sansa just cups Sandor's face in her hands kisses him soundly once more.

**Author's Note:**

> I hope you enjoyed it. I'm hoping to post a much longer WW1 AU soon.


End file.
